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Chapter 69: Rennon’s Visions of Me
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... he archive room slowly, the way one would wander through a sacred place—not because of any rule or sign, but because it felt like that kind of space.
Shelves towered high, dust motes twirled in golden light, and everywhere I turned, something called out to be discovered.
I brushed my fingers across the spines of leather-bound books and old scrolls, their labels handwritten in neat, ancient scripts. Some were faded, others crisp and recently re-inked.
A few shelves held ro ...
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